A Quote by Sean Hepburn Ferrer

During her illness we received bags and bags of anything you can imagine, from get well cards to origami from Japan to medications. The mail lady used to come on a little moped - and she had to rent the mail truck from the town next door because she had to lug these bags to our door with thousands of cards we couldn't even open.
Granuaile looked terminally depressed when she emerged from the bathroom with raven hair and, as a result rather Goth by accident. She didn't want to get her picture taken. "Aughh!" she said miserably, looking in the vanity mirror in the truck of the cab and fingering a wavy curl near her temple. "This sucks more than anything has ever sucked before. You know what we look like? A couple of emo douche bags." "Well, look at the bright side, Granuaile. Emo Douche Bags would be a great band name." [That's brilliant! It's already the unofficial name of more bands than I can count.]
I love bags, and little bags within bags. Everything is contained.
Now, now," my father said. "Let's just get the bags." This was typical. My father, the lone male in our estrogen-heavy household, had always dealt with any kind of emotional situation or conflict by doing something concrete and specific. Discussion of cramps and heavy flow at the breakfast table? He was up and out the door to change oil on one of our cars. Coming home in tears for reasons you just didn't want to discuss? He'd go make you a grilled cheese, which he'd probably end up eating. Family crisis brewing in a public place? Bags. Get the bags.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Okay, just ugh. I had to get some sleep tonight - the bags under my eyes had bags.
I used to have this dream that somebody was knocking at my door. I'd say 'Who is it?' and they'd answer 'Police.' I'd open the door and they would say to me, 'Pack your bags. We realized you have no talent.
You will always see big, chunky bags around me. I have always been fond of bags. Bags are extremely essential because I keep my books in them.
I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. "She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape," the police would say in the APB. "Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.
Banning plastic bags so that people use paper bags or imported reusable bags that will end up in local landfills soon thereafter is not the only solution to our plastic bag challenge.
I was bullied by my siblings and cousins, so make-believe was a way in which I could be in charge. When I was like 10 and my sister was about five, I convinced her that she was going to jail because she used a bad word. The doorbell happened to ring, and I told her it was the police. I made her pack her bags. She was crying, and then I said to her, "I forgive you, and I'm gonna tell the cop to go away." Then, of course, she loved me. It was terrible - she still remembers it. I had a sordid sense of humor.
No, books. She would have maybe twenty going at a time, lying all over our house--on the kitchen table, by her bed, the bathroom, our car, her bags, a little stack at the edge of each stair. And she'd use anything she could find for a bookmark. My missing sock, an apple core, her reading glasses, another book, a fork.
The world is a puzzling place today. All these banks sending us credit cards, with our names on them. Well, we didn't order any credit cards! We don't spend what we don't have. So we just cut them in half and throw them out, just as soon as we open them in the mail. Imagine a bank sending credit cards to two ladies over a hundred years old! What are those folks thinking?
I've learned a lot about fashion through modeling, but you know what they say, mother knows best. She used to tell me, "Your shoes, bags and belt better match before you walk out the door." I love her, but I don't necessarily agree with that advice anymore!
Day and night she had drudged and struggled and thrown her soul into her work, and there was not much of her left over for anything else. Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things. Through the lies, she lived vicariously. The lies doubled the little of her existence that was left over from work and augmented the little rag end of her personal life.
I will never forget seeing my parents coming home from the strawberry fields, looking through their bags to see if they had any leftover Doritos bags he'd buy.
I never liked the idea of bags. I would say, "Why do so many of my friends spend so much money on these bloody bags?" But once I started designing them, I was completely hooked. There are all of these blogs about bags. It's a whole other industry, and I'm really excited to be a part of it.
Actually, I never liked the idea of bags. I would say, 'Why do so many of my friends spend so much money on these bloody bags?' But once I started designing them, I was completely hooked. There are all of these blogs about bags. It's a whole other industry, and I'm really excited to be a part of it.
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